


Your Heart On The Line

by CrazedPanda



Series: Home Is Whenever I'm With You [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: A/B/O, Adorable Dean, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Cliffhanger, F/M, Multi, Omega Verse, Other, Sad Reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-17 22:47:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15471804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrazedPanda/pseuds/CrazedPanda
Summary: Y/N tries to process the fallout from the strange circumstances of the last chapter. Dean offers some explanations. Things start happening.  Lol, sorry, I don't want to give too much away . . .As always, I would never have been able to post this without my lovely betas, Edge_of_Clairvoyance, and ToscaRossetti. They inspire me, and keep up my motivation to write, as well as help me get it ready to post.





	Your Heart On The Line

The next few weeks seemed empty, hollow. She couldn't find it in her to truly be afraid of the night attacker returning, she was more worried about something bad happening to Sam. Her guess had been confirmed that Sam was in a perilous line of work; whether following whatever leads she had helped provide, or having moved on to a different case, he could be injured - or even dead. And, if he'd really meant that he wasn't planning on coming back to see her, she would be completely unaware of it. 

She couldn't stop herself from looking for him. Sam had seemed so off, not himself, maybe he hadn't meant it, or she'd misunderstood. Thursdays dragged and were full of false hopes every time she caught a glimpse of a customer who was particularly tall, or had chestnut hair, or flashed her a bright smile. Even Terri seemed to notice she wasn't doing well and, assuming it was about the incident in the alley, actually behaved like a decent human being - even tried to offer her some paid time off. She really wasn't looking forward to moping in her apartment with nothing to distract her, though. So she declined, making sure to let her manager know how much she appreciated the thoughtfulness. 

One such Thursday about a month after the last time she'd seen Sam, she was trying to shake off her disappointment after spotting a gentleman with shaggy brown hair, reminding herself as she forced a smile that it wasn't his fault his eyes were all wrong. She handed him his soy vanilla latte and turned to face the next customer. 

She felt all the breath leave her lungs at the familiar face. It wasn't him. It was the partner. Wait, the brother? Dean. It was Dean. She was supposed to say something. She willed her voice to be steady. “Hello, Dean, how can I help you today?”

The charming smile that broke across his face relieved a lot of her anxiety that he might be there to give her bad news. She also couldn't help making a comparison - where Sam's was warmth and liquid sunshine, Dean's was full of bold mischief. It looked like it would be at home on the face of a rascally five-year-old who was confident of successfully wielding it to get him out of any trouble he'd gotten himself into. Despite being so different from Sam's, it was just as infectious and y/n found herself responding despite her swirling emotions.

“I'll take a black coffee. And a piece of pie if you got it.” 

“Of course, what kind would you like?”

“Surprise me.” Impossibly green eyes sparkled in anticipation of the treat, lending further weight to the five-year-old comparison.

She chuckled, “We actually have a new S'mores pie. It's chocolate and marshmallow, with a graham cracker crust.”

“Abso-freakin-lutely.” His tone was breezy, but afterward, she could feel the switch as he practically hovered nearby, full of tense energy while she got his order ready. As she turned to hand it to him, he cleared his throat. “Hey, do you have a minute? Or I could come by later, I don't want to get you in trouble . . .” 

Her heart leapt at the realization she would have a chance to have a private conversation with him, maybe get some of her questions answered. “I haven't taken my lunch break yet. I get fifteen minutes. I'll meet you over at that booth?” she indicated one a little farther down than the one she considered as belonging to her and Sam. She just couldn't. 

He nodded, took his pie and mug and left her to collect her thoughts and grab her lunch. On second thought, she paused and went to grab a couple of other things before heading over. She put her sandwich and water on the table in front of her, then placed the paper bag and to-go cup over to the side. 

He glanced over and tilted his head toward them, “What's that?”

She took a deep breath. “A quinoa muffin and a coffee with two creams. I was . . . um, just hoping you could maybe get them to Sam? If it's not . . . If you were willing?”

Dean sighed and muttered something under his breath that sounded like “ _Damn_ it, Sam . . . “ and a bit more she couldn't catch. He gave her a rueful smile. “Yeah, sure, I'll get them to him.” 

He rubbed the back of his neck, “Ah, he should be here giving you the talk. This isn't fair to you at all. I'd like to apologize for my idiot brother -" he noticed her bristle and held up his hands placatingly.

“Easy, I'm just kidding. It's just, I was kind of hoping he would break and get his butt over here to talk to you himself, but doesn't look like that's happening and I figured you at least deserved to know that we got that, erhm, guy that attacked your coworker. He won't be bothering anyone ever again.”

“Oh. Um, thank you. That's good.” She looked down and saw she was starting to pick apart the crust of her sandwich. 

Dean cleared his throat, clearly awkward. He heroically continued, “Here's the thing: he really likes you. Now I don't know if that means he thinks there might be something there." He gestured between her and the empty spot to his right. “Or if he needs someone to talk to - just a normal freaking conversation that's not part of the mess that is our lives. Either way, he likes you. I don't think he even knows how much more smiley and bouncy he's been since he started talking to you. Anyway, when that thing-” he broke off suddenly and looked sideways at her as if he was measuring her up.

She had a sudden realization and, not sure she wasn't dreaming, heard herself say out loud what she'd known all along, “It. It wasn't . . . human.” She felt like her hands should be shaking, but she just stared at them resting perfectly still on the table as she waited for Dean's response. 

She felt alpha pheromones wash over her and when he spoke, it was in a low, calm, voice, meant both to soothe her and to ensure their conversation wouldn't be overheard by anyone else. “No. But I can't tell you much more. I don't think I should, Sam wouldn't like it.”

She tried to match his pitch, “You help people. Stop - _things_ like the one in the alley.” Dean raised his eyebrows, but didn't answer. She took a breath and continued.

“Sam, he - he'd get this look sometimes, like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. And I could tell sometimes, too . . . he's, dangerous - not that I thought _I_ was ever in danger! But like I've seen in military who've seen action. I just guessed some things, it never really all came together until just now.”

She looked at him imploringly, “I just don't understand! What happened? What did he mean, ‘he wouldn't be bothering me again’? He's never bothered me. He always made me smile, and I always felt like, like, if I made _him_ smile . . . If when he left, the shadow behind his eyes was a little lighter and his shoulders were less bowed down under everything he has to carry, then I did something worthwhile that week.” Tears were filling her eyes and she had to look down and catch her breath. She willed herself to get it under control. 

When she forced herself to meet Dean's eyes, he looked stunned and a little distressed. “Well, sh*t.” He ran his fingers through his spiky hair. “Okay. Alright, yeah, most of your guesses are pretty much on the money. I just don't know how to . . . I'm sorry I took so long to come talk to you. I didn't know . . .” He took a deep breath. 

“Look. You're right, Sam's been through some things. This life we live, it's dangerous. You get attached to something, chances are it's gonna get taken from you and it can start to feel like you're cursed. When Sam realized how close you were to - being a feature in a crime scene - he freaked. He figured he was endangering your life by being a part of it. I've tried to talk to him, but he's really being stubborn about it. That's where it stands as of now.” He paused and gazed at her discerningly. 

She nodded and tried to process all of the information he'd given her calmly and rationally, but felt tears forming again. She sniffed a little, and sounded forlorn to her own ears “That's his choice, I can respect it. I miss him, but I understand. I don't want to be something else he has to feel responsible for - I'm sure he has enough of that. I just . . . I keep imagining something happening to him and I would never even know.” 

Dean took a deep breath, he looked uncomfortable. “I'm still hoping Sam’ll come to his senses and put a stop to this. As long as he's keeping it up, though . . . well, the coffee here isn't bad, and the pie’s awesome. I could swing by every once in a while; put your mind at ease. How's that sound?”

“Oh.” She was stunned. She wanted to hug him, but the table was in the way. “Oh! Thank you, yes!” 

He all but blushed at her reaction, “It's nothing. You gonna be okay?”

She wiped her eyes and nodded, “Yes. Thank you for coming by to explain everything, that was . . . I really appreciate it.” They both stood up. 

Dean looked slightly uncomfortable. “Well, figured someone should. Wish I hadn't left you hanging so long.”

“Oh, not at all. Perfect timing.” She figured since things were already awkward; she might as well, and stepped forward to hug him enthusiastically. He seemed completely caught off guard by the gesture, but responded by throwing one arm around her shoulders, and he let her choose when to let go. She tried to ignore the heady feeling left by being surrounded by his scent - where Sam's was an eclectic mixture of outdoors, sweet herbs, and old books, Dean's was smokey with hints of whiskey, metal and oil - and gave him a grateful smile as she began clearing their things. She waved him away when he protested - “I'm back on the clock, it's my job,” - and as she went behind the counter, turned in time to meet his gaze and have him nod at her as he exited the store. 

Over the next couple months, she still hoped to see Sam's face, but she grew used to having Dean pop in at random times and eagerly looked forward to his visits. The majority of the time, they weren't able to do more than engage in simple small talk, but she knew that that meant they were doing okay and that was enough. 

On the occasional times they were able to have longer conversations, she learned the best way to get him going - besides when she accidentally stumbled on something else he was passionate about, like that one time she mentioned a Led Zeppelin song in passing - was to bring up Sam. She found that by listening to him talk about his brother he would inadvertently reveal a lot about himself as well - for instance that he was selfless and compassionate, but had a low opinion of himself; things that he'd never admit to, but wore on his sleeve for anyone to see - and in those moments she would listen with rapt attention, interjecting just enough to keep him talking. 

She memorized his favorite pies and made sure to send a muffin back for Sam - which Dean always accepted with a wry almost-grimace that he'd meant as a smile, and a promise to give it to him. 

It had been ten days since she saw him last - She was a little embarrassed that she knew this with such precision. Her shift was winding down, it was late afternoon, on a Tuesday. So as she was wiping down a table and glanced out the door Sam's face was the last she expected to see. 

Her heart stuttered. He was out in the parking lot, leaning against a beat up old beige corolla. When he realized she'd seen him, he carefully scanned the parking lot before gesturing to her to come meet him. She didn't think about it, she just left her cleaning rag on the table and walked out to him. “Sam?!”

He opened the passenger side door. He couldn't quite meet her eyes, and when his skittered across hers there was something wrong in them. She felt a pang of fear. What was going on? Where was Dean? 

“Something happened; there's no time to explain. Get in the car. We need to move - now - you're in danger.”

She could feel her adrenaline kick in, her instincts screaming of an imminent threat. Sprinting the remainder of the distance, she climbed into the car, unconcerned that she hit her shin in her hurry. Not a moment after he'd shut her in, he was sliding into the driver's seat and the car peeled out of the lot. 

They drove for a time in silence. Sam seemed to be heading out of the city limits, but he was going a strange route. The acrid scent of their adrenaline filled the car. It made her slow to realize something was off about what should have been Sam's unique smell, that she'd come to find comfort in. It was musty, damp, sour; reminded her of mildew and blood. 

“Sam?” she was suddenly tentative, but surely he would not mind a simple question. 

He barely spared her a glance, giving her a grunt she chose to take as a ‘what?’

“Can you tell me what happened? Where are we going?”

“Somewhere safe. That's all you need to know.” his voice was almost a growl and she resisted shrinking against the seat. 

Suddenly she was indignant. “N-, no . . . No it's _not!_ Talk to me! I deserve to know what's going on!”

He rounded on her, eyes blazing with fury. “You don't know when to shut up? I'll shut you up, bitch!”

His arm shot out slamming her head into the door. She tried to fight back, but everything was blurry and her brain muddled by the impact. He easily resisted her clumsy efforts to block him and shoved her again. There was a bright light at the blow, and then nothing.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, sorry for any emotional distress caused by the cliffhanger, but I've already started writing the next chapter so I'm shooting for having it done within a week.


End file.
